


Beyond the Border

by EdoEclipse



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: A sea of tags was suggested to me by my homie, Adventure, Character is hated on due to mixed race, Civil War, Cold Weather, Dovahkiin - Freeform, Dragonborn misses her dad, Elder Scrolls online location references, F/M, Fantasy, Fear, Gen, Hadvar is a caring teddy bear as usual, Halfling, I add a lot of tags, I always write half-asleep, I apologize if I make something cheesy., I'm known as Queen Cheesy, Imperial mage - Freeform, Imperial mage love interest, Imperials, In-game Dialogue, Mage, Magic, My girl was at the wrong place...at the wrong time, Pointed ears, Prophecy, Romance, Screw Ralof! He talks too much..., Short Character, Skyrim - Freeform, Stormcloaks, Strong language at times, Tamriel, The dragonborn cries a lot, The dragonborn is a wimp, The dragonborn is super sensitive, The dragonborn...you get the idea. She has a lot of character development ahead of her., Ulfric is racist...no surprise there, adventuring leads to danger, alchemist, archery skills, backstories, character's inner wants and desires, graphic descriptions of injuries and death, half Bosmer, half Breton, mer abilities, my version of the main storyline, side plots of character, strong female character, the elder scrolls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdoEclipse/pseuds/EdoEclipse
Summary: With dreams of becoming the most well-known Alchemist in all of Tamriel, Nolwenn Riverbrook, a young woman comprised of both Bosmer and Breton heritage, seeks out knowledge for her remedies by traveling the land. Upon the border that separates Cyrodiil from Skyrim, she's caught between a civil war ambush, carted and taken away to her death.But before her end arrives, Alduin, the World Eater, returns from time itself, and who else to stop it but the halfling who discovers herself the true Dovahkiin and center of the prophecy of old. With the help of allies and an Imperial mage who's heart dedicated to hers, Nolwenn must face her destiny and spare the world from it's unseemly end.





	1. A Final Farewell

Bruma, as usual, was bustling in the early morning hours. An elderly woman sat on the steps of an inn, watching the snow fall without a care. The snow always fell, and the ground would always remain white, but the elder wouldn't leave the city for all the riches in the land. This was her home, and she was waiting for someone special. 

The glimpse of a hooded, feminine figure was her cue as she stood from her chilly seat, limping down the wooden steps. 

The young woman smiled at the sight of her dear, elderly friend, rushing to greet her. "Marcella, it is good to see you again."

"Yes, it is good to see you as well, little Nolwenn. I've brought you something special, something you've been wanting for quite some time," Marcella said, giving the girl a fair smile. 

The elder held out a small pouch, one that felt warm to the touch. Nolwenn's gray eyes sparkled at the gift, giving the older woman a smile of gratitude. 

"I know you always tell me to never ask how you obtain these items, but how did you get this?" she asked. 

Marcella chuckled a bit. "My girl, you are the naive one. If you must know, my grandson visited his father in Skyrim, and he bought that for me as a gift." 

"Oh, Marcella, I couldn't take something like this from you! You've treated me so kindly despite...my being," Nolwenn protested. 

Yet, the old lass merely shook her head. "I am growing too old to experiment with new potions, unlike you. You were a good friend to me, but I'm afraid that I will not live to see you again. It grows more difficult to breathe and live each day, so I want you to have this. Remember me, Nolwenn Riverbrook. Continue searching for new remedies, and hold onto the knowledge that I have taught you during your visits here. You are the daughter that I wanted, and I know you will be the alchemist of Tamriel." 

The young woman wiped her teary eyes, reaching over and hugging her old friend. "May the gods bless you with a happy afterlife, friend." 

"And may the gods watch over you as you travel Tamriel, little Nolwenn," Marcella whispered, hugging her in return. 

They parted ways, the elder watching her only friend walk away for the last time. She knew that if Nolwenn had known the true reason for the ingredient, she would have never accepted the gift. But Marcella was tired of living, so she had no reason to use the only cure for her fatal illness. Her son had good intentions to risk his life in Skyrim for the fire salts, but the old woman knew that her research and discoveries would live on through the short, naive halfling.


	2. The Border

Skyrim’s borders were not guarded in the slightest which made crossing over perhaps the easiest land transaction Nolwenn had ever encountered. She knew that a civil war was going on in this chilly land, so perhaps the capital was low on guards for now. 

In this area, she noticed that there was not a lot of snow, the land nearest to her mostly covered in beautiful pine trees. A stone pathway proved to be her only option in finding a village or hold, if they would accept her beyond the gates. 

The woman’s feet ached from her already long journey, but as she caught sight of a wooden sign, her hopes grew. The sign displayed a few towns by the look of it. Falkreath, Helgen, Ivarstead, and Riverwood. 

Nolwenn decided that Helgen would be a good option. Marcella had told her stories of Helgen from the visits her son would make, and the girl was eager to try juniper berry mead. 

She headed north bound for the town, ready to sleep in a warm, cozy inn. But as she continued on the pathway, the sound of rustling bushes caught her sharp hearing. Glancing around, her gray eyes spotted a small group of towering, pale men and women stalking about in blue armor. One obviously held a power over them, wearing clothes of fine material and such. 

“Alright men, our spy claimed that the Imperials would be walking past here with their weapons cargo. If we play this right, we will have new weapons and many Imperial scum dead at our hands," the leader spoke, his dirty blonde beard bristling from the shivering winds. 

His soldiers cheered on as they stalked through the bushes, causing a nervous feeling to form in the pit of Nolwenn's stomach. 

She needed to leave this area as soon as she could, or else her fate would be determined as soon as the Imperials arrived. 

Though, her sensitive, pointed mer ears picked up another sound other than the blue armored soldiers. Nolwenn; however, couldn't quite figure out what sound this was. 

The young halfling began to creep around the commotion, knowing that she needed to leave now. But as she neared a zone of peace, the sounds of gasps stopped her dead in her tracks. 

One of the men in blue armor... shot dead by an arrow. 

Blood gushed out from his chest wound as he lay dead on the stone path. And Nolwenn knew that sneaking remained not an option, but a suicide mission. 

She ran as fast as her short, Breton legs could take her. However, the poor girl didn't get very far. 

An Imperial soldier stopped in front of her, glaring down into her eyes. "And where do you think you're going?" 

Before Nolwenn could answer him, a swift blow to the back of the head cascaded the halfling into darkness.


	3. To The Block

When Nolwenn finally awoke, she blinked rapidly, gaining her vision as she observed a blurry image of passing trees. Her head ached, but it was nothing unbearable. 

"Hey, you!" 

She glanced over at a blurry image of a man with long, blonde hair. He wasn't the leader, that much she could figure out. Luckily, her vision cleared, revealing a young man in blue armor. 

"You're finally awake," he said, glancing her over, as if instinctively checking for visible wounds on her body. 

Nolwenn merely groaned as a response. 

The pale man smiled a bit, as if to reassure her. "You were trying to cross the border, right? ...walked right into that Imperial ambush... same as us, and that thief over there!"

Nolwenn followed the man's head notion to see a filthy individual dressed in rags. She had not seen him during her observation, but perhaps he was as she was...sneaking around the soldiers, trying not to be seen. Clearly, that plan failed for them both. 

"Damn you Stormcloaks... Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy... If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and be half way to Hammerfell ," he griped out, glancing over at the young woman, “You there. You and me--we shouldn’t be here! It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

She glanced at the two other men in the carriage, the lower ranking man huffing in slight anger. 

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the man, now known to be a Stormcloak, said, putting an emphasis of distaste on the word 'thief'. 

The Imperial soldier handling the horses up front growled in annoyance. “Shut up back there!” 

Hearing the command caused the woman to freeze in fear, glancing downwards to hide her chattering teeth. 

The thief glanced up at the man across from him, next to Nolwenn. She also glanced up at him, recognizing the man as the leader. Strangely enough, not only did they bind him like the rest, but they also wrapped a cloth around his mouth, preventing him from speaking. But why him? Why couldn't he speak during his last hour like the rest? 

“And what’s wrong with him?" the man in rags asked, motioning towards the one of power. 

The soldier immediately glared at the thief with such hate, it frightened Nolwenn a bit. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking of Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!”

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion... but if they’ve captured you... oh, gods! Where are they taking us?” the thief worriedly asked, his eyes tearing up. 

The Stormcloak sighed, looking away. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits...”

Nolwenn tuned out of their conversation then, her own nervous thoughts plaguing her mind. If what the soldier spoke was really true, then this would be the end of her life. At the age of twenty, she hadn’t quite completed her journey. There grew, out in vast, undiscovered lands, a variety of assorted herbs and other strange ingredients... waiting to be found and brewed. But most importantly... she would never return home to High Rock and see her father again. 

He moved to High Rock from Valenwood with her mother when Nolwenn was but an infant. They agreed that her mother’s homeland would prove more safe to raise a Halfling. 

And now, she would never see her family again. Her father always worried that something like this would happen. Nolwenn, of course denied it. 

But as they entered the gates of an unfamiliar settlement, her stomach dropped in utter despair. 

“This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a...” Nolwenn managed to catch a particular part of the soldier’s ramblings. 

She observed the different aspects of this place, noticing that the small village was surrounded by a stone wall, as well as a few forts. It was an odd village, Nolwenn had decided. 

A child stood with his father, asking about their fate. When his father urged his son to stay inside, the young woman grew more certain that her life had arrived full circle, or in her case, not even half way. 

The carts halted by one of the many stone walls, between two, towering forts, and a woman ordered them off the carts in the most distasteful voice Nolwenn had ever heard. 

As the Halfling glanced up, she noticed that the officer was accompanied by a young man, assumably around the same age as the chatty Stormcloak. She also heard the Stormcloak mutter something about the Empire and lists as the officer bellowed out a few orders for them; however, Nolwenn was uncaring about following orders at this moment. She wanted to keep to herself and think about her beloved father and their home back in Evermore. 

While she wouldn’t miss hiding in their cellar during Reachmen attacks, she would miss her father’s archery lessons in the Viridian Woods. 

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm,” the young Imperial said, the crowd watching as the Jarl walked away towards the line of prisoners waiting for their life to end. 

“Ralof of Riverwood.” 

The chatty soldier walked away, and it almost pained the woman that she finally knew his name... a tad too late for a proper introduction. 

“Lokir of Rorikstead.” 

With horror, Nolwenn observed the poor thief run away in an attempt to stay alive, only to be taken down with a single arrow. Lokir was a thief, yes, but he had a point. Both of them were here only due to the fact that they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Neither exactly deserved this death, especially Nolwenn. The worst crime that she had ever committed was stealing an apple from her father’s market stall. 

“Wait...you there!” 

Nolwenn glanced at the young man, her eyes widened with fear. 

“Step forward,” he commanded. 

With a gulp, she took a leap forward, shaking in terror. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes, “N-Nolwenn Riverbrook...o-of Evermore...that’s i-in...H-highrock. I-I’m...just a t-traveler...p-please, I--”

“Shut up, you milkdrinker! Excuses don’t exist here in Skyrim,” the woman officer spat out at her, causing the young Halfling to cry. 

The young soldier gave her a saddened look. She knew that he didn’t want to kill her by any means, but he wasn’t the one in charge here. “And your race? I need to know your race. I... can’t exactly tell.” 

Her cheeks reddened, knowing that he would more than likely lose his pity. “Breton... a-and Bosmer.” 

The crowd gasped. 

“Halfling wench! You deserve to die!” someone from the crowd yelled out, causing more tears to fall. 

However, the Imperial soldier merely sighed. “I’m sorry... we’ll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock. Follow the captain, Miss Riverbrook.” 

Nolwenn choked on a sob as she followed the bitchy woman, standing in line with the others as a general boasted a speech about Ulfric. If she hadn’t been so frightened, she would have also heard the strange sound that traveled from over the mountains. 

A priestess began a speech, and by the sound of it, it was one she repeated on a frequent basis. But Nolwenn could care less about the speech. Her preferred deities to worship were Y’ffre, God of the Forest, and Magnus, God of Magic, both of which were not common gods in Skyrim. 

Instead, Nolwenn repeated silent prayers to her gods, asking them for a swift and painless death. 

Her praying was cut short when a redheaded Nord interrupted the priestess, practically walking himself towards his own death.

The Halfling paled as he knelt down, placing his head on the block. 

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?” 

And just as swift as ever, the axe swooped downward, beheading the Stormcloak. 

Mixed responses filled the chilly air, but Nolwenn cared not. She only hoped that these Imperials would find common sense and release her. They knew that she was not apart of the Stormcloaks. From her own observation, this army consisted of mostly the natives of Skyrim, so why would they even decide that a Halfling, especially one not compromised of any native blood, would be accepted, anyways? 

“Next, the Halfling!”

She nearly pissed herself at the sentence. In all honestly, she probably did, not realizing due to how numb her entire body was at this moment. If she hadn’t been so caught up in the fact that she was about to die, Nolwenn might have heard the strange sound that traveled once more towards the village. 

“To the block, prisoner... nice and easy,” the young, Imperial solider said, giving her a sad smile. 

Sobbing aloud, she walked over to the block, kneeling down and shakily placing her head on the blood-covered stone. Slowly, she glanced up at the headsman. 

“P-please... don’t,” she choked out. 

The headsman merely laughed at her, raising his axe into the air, ready to slice her head clean from the rest of her body. 

Before he could dismantle her; however, a large creature swooped down over them, causing a strong breeze to blow her long, wavy dark hair from Nolwenn’s eyes. 

“What in Oblivion is that?!” the general asked. 

Nolwenn tilted her head around in an attempt to figure out what the creature was. Her efforts were not needed, as the enormous, dark creature landed on the fort in front of her. 

“Dragon!” someone cried out. 

The dragon released a shout, killing the headsman and briefly knocking Nolwenn out. Luckily, she was able to regain consciousness quickly, struggling to stand on her feet. 

“Hey, Halfling! Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” someone barked at her. 

Glancing up, she spotted Ralof staring at her. “This way!”

Standing on her feet finally, she followed Ralof towards a fort, relieved that she was still alive. But with this dragon flying about, how much luck could she possibly have had before it eventually ran out?


	4. Escaping the Keep

The fort that Ralof led Nolwenn to seemed far away when in reality, it proved to be more near to the duo than the girl had thought. Perhaps, her lack of logical thinking was due to the fact that a rampaging dragon circled overhead.

The Jarl of Windhelm stood to watch by the entrance, ready to attack when necessary.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked in a breathy voice, panting.

Ulfric peered at the two as if he knew more meaning to this than met the eye. "Legends don't burn down villages..."

He glanced over at the other men. "We need to move, now!"

Nolwenn noticed that the side of the fort on the upper level had crumbled a bit, and it seemed another Stormcloak possessed a similar idea as her.

Ignoring Ralof's commands, whatever they were, she raced up the stairs, only to fall back as the dragon crashed inside, setting the Stormcloak aflame.

Regaining her footing, Nolwenn climbed onto the narrow ledge, leaping into the nearly demolished building next to her. With a swift speed that she could have only gained from her father's side, the Halfling leaped to the ground, rushing over towards the young Imperial she had met earlier. Only this time, he was accompanied by an older man and the father and son she had noticed when arriving here.

The father was clearly injured, lying within the path of the landing dragon. His son stood close by as if believing he could protect his sire from such a frightening beast.

The Imperial bellowed a few commands out to the boy, commands that Nolwenn ceased to hear through the blasting sound of the dragon's fire breath.

"Still alive, Miss Riverbrook? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he commanded her, glancing towards the elderly man and boy, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," Gunnar's fading voice said as the pair raced towards the stone wall.

Nolwenn glanced at the man--Hadvar. He didn't look like a Hadvar, she thought, but if it was his name, she would refer to him as such.

The Halfing noticed that the dragon flew towards them, and out of pure fear, ran away from the wall.

"Stop! What are you doing?! Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted towards her just as the beast perched on top of the wall, scorching an Imperial soldier, barely missing the woman as she fled towards a form of safety.

Her soldier companion followed after her, leading her away from the screaming and injured villagers.

The general, Tullius she believed, noticed Hadvar. "Hadvar! Into the keep, solider, we're leaving!"

Nolwenn missed Hadvar's words, following him down a path that led to two keeps. Ralof stood beside one, rushing towards her companion.

"Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!" Hadvar bit out, giving Nolwenn the suspicion the two know each other quite well.

"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time," Ralof proclaimed in a more calm tone.

A growl emerged from the Imperial's throat. "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

Both men urged Nolwenn to follow them, and if there wasn't a killer circling above them, the woman would have felt flattered. In the end, she chose Hadvar, knowing that he wasn't quite as annoying as his Stormcloak rival.

Inside the fort, the pair panted and sat on the beds, regaining their energy.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times? We should keep moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off," he said, gently holding her wrists and slicing away the bindings.

"There you go. Take a look around. There should be plenty of gear to choose from," he encouraged her.

Standing, Nolwenn searched through the many chests that the fort provided, feeling very disappointed that none of the items housed within the chests were a bow or arrows. It seemed that the only weapons around were iron swords, one of the worst weapons in her opinion.

The armor that she found was a bit snug fitting, not made for her stocky, Breton body.

Hadvar walked over towards her, chuckling at her suffering. "Come on, this way."

Nolwenn followed her companion down a dim hallway, but the sound of talking was soon heard.

"We need to keep moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!"

"Just give me a minute ...I'm out of breath."

Hadvar cursed under his breath. "Hear that? Stormcloaks ...maybe we can reason with them."

He opened the gate, entering the room with his hands held up in a surrender, "Hold on now. We only want to--"

The Stormcloak man swung at her Imperial companion with his axe, angering Hadvar. "If you want to die, so be it!"

While the men battled with each other, Nolwenn was stuck with the tall, sturdy woman. Instead of her Imperial companion, she chose to back away, pleading with the Stormcloak woman not to harm her.

"What a milkdrinker..." the soldier mumbled under her breath, swinging her axe at Nolwenn.

Instinctively, the Halfling used her fireball spell, cloaking the woman in fire.

As the soldier screamed in agony, Nolwenn mentally slapped herself for forgetting about her spells so quickly.

Hadvar managed to kill his opponent as well, though his victim wasn't blistered and cooked on the inside out like hers.

They ran through the gate, Nolwenn running ahead of him.

She dodged the roof caving in and landed in another room. Two more Stormcloaks were seen digging around in barrels. Crouching down, she blasted them with fire, immediately killing the duo.

Looking around, Nolwenn managed to find a few potions, leaving the room to move on.

"Miss Riverbrook, wait!" she heard Hadvar call out, but the Halfling decided that he was no better than the scum who captured her... at the moment.

Instead of waiting, the young woman ventured further, entering a torture room filled with battling conflict between the torturers and Stormcloak soldiers. 

Using a lightning spell, she electrocuted one dead, another man killing off the other.

"You happened along just in time... These boys seemed quite upset at how I've been entertaining their comrades," the older man said with an odd smirk.

Nolwenn rolled her eyes, glancing around the room and picking up any lockpicks that she could find. In one of the locked cages, a dead man wore something that reminded her of home: mage robes.

Using the picks that she found, she unlocked the cage, slipping the robes off of the man's body and quickly changing into them. A sigh of bliss escaped her lips as she could feel the regeneration work magic on her body.

Hadvar finally caught up, giving Nolwenn a quick glare before switching his attention to the other Imperial members. "Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!"

A sigh escaped from Nolwenn. She had no time to sit around and listen to petty arguments. Slipping away, she rushed down a hallway decorated with various cells, entering an area where she caught glimpses of several Stormcloak soldiers wandering about.

She knew of one spell that could wipe out the entire group instantly, but it was a spell that drained much of her magicka energy. She would have to fight with the wretched sword for a while until she felt her magic levels return.

She walked towards the Stormcloaks who were prepared to kill her; however, they would never get the chance to.

Closing her eyes, Nolwenn inhaled and exhaled deeply, moving her hands in a particular motion that resembled the name of her most powerful spell: Fire Storm.

Jerking her hands outward, the room around her was covered in exploding flames, killing every Stormcloak in sight.

The Halfling squealed in fear at the fire around her, carefully walking around it and glancing at the bodies of the dead men. One carried a bow and arrows on him, causing a bright smile to appear on her face. Quickly snatching her favorite weapon from the burning corpse, she ran onward, stopping when she realized that her path was blocked by a drawn bridge.

Noticing the lever, she pushed it forward with all of her strength, lowering the bridge.

Crossing over, she leaped down into another tunnel, entering a room filled with spiders. Her entire body paled at the sight. A shriek escaped from her as she ran past them with the speed that only a Bosmer could possess, knowing that perhaps Hadvar would enjoy killing them when he finally made it as far as her.

Following a few more tunnels, she found a few gold pouches along the way, greedily slipping them into her satchel.

Eventually, Nolwenn entered a large room with a water source. As she glanced around at the new area, the young woman spotted a slumbering bear. A gulp formed as her knees shook, and with her stealth skills taught to her by her father, she snuck around the hairy monster, walking on.

Light was seen at the end of the tunnel, and a sigh of relief escaped Nolwenn.

The sky was as blue as she remembered, the air crisp like a cold, autumn morning. However, a familiar, frightening sound was heard from behind her.

Crouching behind a boulder, Nolwenn observed as the dragon flew over her and over the mountains ahead. Who knows where he was headed.

"There you are... about time that I caught up with you."

Nolwenn turned around to see Hadvar, covered in spider guts and bear blood. If she weren't so frightened of the man, she would have laughed at him.

The soldier instead sighed. "Closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle's the blacksmith there."

"Are there any alchemists in Riverwood?" she asked.

A small smile formed on the man. "So she does speak. Riverwood doesn't have an alchemy shop, but if I remember correctly, there is a brewing stand in the inn. Are you an alchemist?"

Nolwenn nodded. "Yes. I travel Tamriel in search of new ingredients for my potions."

"Ah, I see. Well, alchemy isn't really my thing, but I'm sure you could have guessed that on your own. We can split up, or you can follow me. Your choice," he said.

"I shall travel on my own. I'm sure the signs will help," the Halfling shrugged out.

Reaching into his small satchel, Hadvar handed a folded parchment to his new friend. "A map of Skyrim... it should help with your travels here."

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded slightly, waving her off as he walked away, towards the village of Riverwood.

As he disappeared among the shrubs, Nolwenn studied the map he gave her, mapping out possible locations that could be potential for brewing ingredients. Riverwood seemed useless to her, but if they had a brewing station, perhaps she could find a few plants around and brew up a couple of potions.

The sound of a wolf howling confirmed her answer, a scream of fear escaping from the woman as she ran to catch up with her acquaintance.


	5. Hadvar's Family

Nolwenn quickly figured out one thing about this land, and that was the fact that Skyrim was a place that held both great beauty and perilous danger. She couldn’t figure out which to be more common, so the young Breton decided to settle with two different descriptions. 

Despite the fact that Hadvar intentionally desired solo travel, the trembling fear that roused from Nolwenn proved to be his undoing. As they walked along the dirt pathways, the soldier told stories about his family--mostly about his cousin, a little girl named Dorthe. From the stories of him protecting her and viewing the child as more of a younger sister, the young woman quickly realized why Hadvar gave in so quickly towards her want, or rather need, of traveling together. It made her feel a tad guilty, knowing that she reminded the man of the little one that he hadn’t seen in nearly three years. 

“Riverwood is around the corner. I want to say that I enjoyed your company, but you made me display a secret side that I can rarely ever show,” he told her. 

Nolwenn glanced up at the Nord, curious. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with showing gentle emotions?” 

The duo’s conversation was disturbed by a small group of wolves, but Hadvar quickly killed them off. The young woman was beginning to realize how common it was to tread across danger in Skyrim. He didn’t even bat an eye towards the death of the wolves, or perhaps Nolwenn was beginning to realize that she was simply too soft and caring to adventure outside of her homeland. 

“Now that that’s over, Nords are hearty folk. We live surrounded by danger, and we die young. That is the Nord way of life--has been ever since our ancestors arrived at this cold and daunting land,” Hadvar explained, walking onward as if the forest beasts never appeared.

“What you’re saying is that this place requires only the most barbarian to survive?” she asked.

Hadvar sighed as they entered the small village. “When you say it like that, it sounds a bit harsh. We are not necessarily barbarians, Nolwenn. We are survivors.” 

Even with his claims, the young woman could not wrap her mind around such a truth. These people spend their entire lives wondering when their day of death will arrive. Perhaps Nolwenn should consider the same thoughts seeing as though she would remain here for quite some time. Her former adventuring route was now disrupted, the land challenging to memorize. 

The young Nord broke his friend out of her thoughts by calling out to his uncle, a rugged blacksmith by the name of Alvor. 

“Hadvar! What happened to you, boy? Did the--” 

“Please, Uncle. We can talk later. I have so much to tell you, but we must go inside,” Hadvar explained, seeming to glance at a few wandering eyes rather suspiciously. 

His uncle followed the glances, nodding in an understanding way. “Of course, but this is quite shocking. And who’s this?” 

“She’s a friend--saved my life in fact,” he explained, glancing down at me. 

The slightest hint of a blush formed on Nolwenn’s cheeks, but she ignored it as she bowed. “Nolwenn Riverbrook... o-of Evermore i-in High Rock!” 

His uncle released a booming laugh, causing the blush on the halfling’s face to brighten by the second. “You are a delicate little thing, aren’t you. But despite that, any friend of Hadvar is a friend of mine. You are welcome here, Nolwenn.” 

A smile formed on her face as she followed the two men inside. A little girl sat on her bed, feet swinging in the air. At the sight of Hadvar, her warm, brown eyes brightened as she rushed from the bed and into his arms. 

“Hadvar! Did you kill any Stormcloaks? How many have you killed? Are you famous now?” she questioned him repeatedly. 

Hadvar chuckled. “Dorthe, should I expect a parchment of questions that you intended to ask me stashed away in your chest?” 

Nolwenn couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Hadvar reminded her of her own father at that moment, and it nearly brought tears to her eyes. But she knew better. In Skyrim, crying was for the weak, apparently. 

“Stop pestering your cousin, dear,” a voice called out. 

The young woman glanced over at the stairs leading down to a basement, and a Nordic woman emerged from the room. Her long, reddish hair was pinned back to keep strands out of her face. She was quite beautiful, causing the short halfling to feel a bit self-conscious about herself. 

“Hello, Aunt Sigrid...” Hadvar mumbled out. 

“Hadvar, we’ve been so worried about you! Come, you two must be hungry. Sit down, and I’ll get you something to eat,” she said, smiling at the both of them.

Gladly, they both sat down at the table. Nolwenn’s feet ached from the long walks and runs of terror. It was rather nice to sit at a dinner table, surrounded by people who didn’t despise her. If it weren’t for the ghastly low temperatures and tall, bulking men, the young woman would feel right at home here. 

“So, tell me. What brings you here?” Alvor asked us. 

Hadvar sighed, giving me a side-glance. We both knew that this would be... incredibly hard to explain. “General Tullius had ordered an ambush on Ulfric’s men, and our mission ended very successfully. We managed to even capture Ulfric himself. We quickly made preparations to behead him, along with the Stormcloaks that accompanied him, in Helgen. But while there, before the bastard even took one step to the chopping block, we were attacked... by a dragon.” 

His entire family tensed, completely shocked by his words. “A dragon... you aren’t drunk, are you boy?” 

“Husband, let him finish telling his story,” his wife scolded him, appearing as if she were ready to smack the back of his head. 

“There’s not much more to tell. We barely made it out with our lives. I’m sure that I would have died--if not for my friend here,” he said, nodding in respect towards Nolwenn. 

Alvor smiled at the young woman. “We give you our thanks for saving our nephew. Please, if there’s anything you need, do not hesitate to ask for it... within reason, of course.” 

She instead shook her head, standing up. “I should be fine on my own, but thank you.”

“Dear, I don’t think you realize where you are, exactly. This is Skyrim, a place filled with danger around every corner. You don’t even have a weapon!” Sigrid nearly screeched. 

“I defend myself with magic,” she explained.

The older woman nodded. “Oh, magic... So you’re a mage?” 

Nolwenn nearly bolted for the door. She had forgotten Hadvar’s warnings about his race. Nords were not the fondest of magic, preferring large weapons and shields instead. “My mother is Breton, so magic naturally flows within me.” 

Hadvar’s uncle immediately became curious, standing from his chair. “Breton? Then why do you have pointed ears?” 

“Bretons are a mix of both Men and Mer blood; therefore, we have slightly pointed ears,” she tried to explain, afraid to go into detail with her pure, halfling blood. 

“I know that, but yours are different. They look like Faendal’s,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly towards the young woman. 

Hadvar stood in front of Nolwenn, defending her. “That is because she is only half Breton. Her father is Bosmer, like Faendal. Uncle, leave her be. We’ve had quite the day, and she needs rest. Her heritage should not shadow the fact that she saved my life. Please, do not start acting like one of Ulfric’s men.” 

Alvar bowed his head. “My apologies, Nolwenn. You are indeed more than your heritage, and can I ask a favor from you?”

“W-what is it?” she asked, slightly uncomfortable now. 

“Could you report this... dragon attack to the Jarl of Whiterun? Riverwood is defenseless, and if there really are dragons flying around now, the Jarl needs to know about his,” he explained to her. 

The young woman nodded. “I will,” She turns to Hadvar, a slight smile on her face. “I must go now. Thank you for helping me out.” 

The young Nord smiled. “No, thank you. Be safe, and do not hesitate to kill. If they try to attack you, you attack back even harder.” 

“Of course. Farewell.” 

Nolwenn left the quaint house, ready to embark on another adventure. However, the sudden sounds of yelling caught her attention. It was coming from a two-story building, a small sign hanging from a beam that clearly identified the place as a post or store. 

Two men dressed in furs barged from the building, running off away from the town and across the stream. In the hands of one of the men, an object reflected light from the bright moons. 

A man and woman, both clearly a tad shorter than Nords, emerged out from behind them, yelling out words of profanity. 

Of course, curiously got the best of little Nolwenn.


	6. The Claw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a claw of the gold materials is needing rescue, and Awkward Halfling-Girl is there to save the day with her cool magic tricks!

Nolwenn entered the trading post, discovering two, distraught Imperials.

“Brother, please sit down.” the girl informed her brother, sitting him down by the fire, offering him a glass of wine. 

He pushed it away. “Damn thieves! We’ll never get the claw back. I can’t afford to hire the companions or even a few, drunken Whiterun guards!” 

“Could you go after them?” his sister asked. 

“No, they would surely kill me,” he sighed out. 

The sister stood up straight. “Perhaps I should go. Faendal taught me a thing or two with archery. I’m sure that I could--” 

“No! It’s too dangerous!” he yelled out. 

“Well, one of us has to do something!” she yelled back. 

“I said no! Now, go off and do whatever it is you women do! Go flirt with your little elf or lazy Nord. Just stay--oh,” he noticed the young halfling standing by the door, clearing his throat, “Welcome to the Riverwood Trader. I’m uh...Lucan Valerius, and this is my sister, Camilla.” 

Nolwenn gave them both a curious look. “I heard you mention...a claw?” 

“An...ornament. Damn thieves took it. They dropped a letter, though--instructions of some sort--said that they needed to meet at Bleak Falls Barrow. Say now...if you go there and retrieve my claw from them, I’ll pay you. I have a shipment coming in--plenty of coin to give you,” he explained. 

Nolwenn knew that taking on such a task was complete suicide, but at the same time, she was in desperate need of coin. If anything, she could always use her conjuration spells to summon her frost atronach. He’d fight for her. “Alright, I’ll do it.” 

With an excited smile, Camilla rushed towards the door. “I’ll show you the way.” 

“Camilla, n--”

“I’m just going to show her how to get there from the edge of town. That’s all,” she said, giving him a look. 

Lucan sighed. “Fine, but don’t cross the river.” 

Camilla giggled, dragging Nolwenn out of the door and towards the edge of town. 

“It’s not hard to see the barrow. Look up at the protruding structure on the mountain. That is where you need to go,” she said. 

Nolwenn nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back with your...claw.” 

“Be careful!” the woman called out, watching as the halfling trotted along the path. 

Nolwenn’s stomach churned at the thought of being alone, but she knew that there wouldn’t always be a companion to protect her. She knew the art of magic--mastered it even at a young age; therefore, her ability to fight wasn’t the problem. Fear was the problem. The young halfling was, to put it simply, a coward. Monsters scared her. People annoyed her. And that was that. 

Whilst walking along the path, she noticed a small hut--a woman sitting in a chair. Her body was clothed in deep blue robes, something that Nolwenn didn’t particularly trust. The old woman gave off an aura, and with Nolwenn’s mastered knowledge of the magic arts, she could decipher it as witchcraft. 

Though, not too far from the hut, stood a hooded, male khajiit. In all honesty, Nolwenn recognized him from her journeys elsewhere. M’aiq...a khajiit who practically screams creepy. She had a few confusing conversations with him before, and she’d rather not get tangled into another one. 

Sneaking around him, she climbed the steep path towards a tower, and immediately, she noticed men and women clothed in furs. Considering their choice of weapons, Nolwenn decided that they were either the thieves that stole from the Valerius siblings or just a clan of bandits seeking a few travelers to mug. Either way, she knew that this would result in a fight. 

One of the bandits spotted her, drawing his axe. “Alright, bitch, that’s close enough!” 

Instead of backing away, she ignited her magic, glaring at the bandit as she walked forward. 

“That’s it!” he yelled out, charging towards her. 

Using her ice magic, Nolwenn pierced the main with an ice spear, his intestines wrapping around the spear as it broke loose from his back.

She cringed when the dead bandit fell head-first into the snow, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. 

More bandits emerged from the tower, causing the woman to set them on fire with a fire spell, cringing once again as she heard their screams of death. 

Stepping around the charred ashes, she crept into the tower, searching for any clues of the missing claw. As she crept up the stairs, clinging sounds of metal armor were heard, and she prepared herself to battle another bandit. 

This time, it was their chief: a strong, Nordic man clothed in iron armor. Quickly, she impaled the man with another ice spear before he could even turn around, pushing him off the edge of the floor. Hearing his body hit the wooden panels caused her to wince. 

Fighting was not her specialty. 

A chest sat against the brittle, stone wall, and Nolwenn opened it, discovering some gold and a useful bow with a few arrows. However, there was no claw--not even a clue. 

Tears fell from her eyes. “I have to go...in that crypt...” 

Sniffing her tears of fear away, she climbed down the stairs, leaving the crumbling tower behind. 

Remembering what Hadvar said, she sucked in her fear, marching onwards up the slope. 

This was Skyrim, after all, a place where only the brave and strong survived. 

Remembering the sight of the bandit’s intestines wrapped around her spell, she leaned over and vomited rather violently. Gore was something that she couldn’t handle very well, but she would have to get over such a weakness. 

Marching onwards, she finally reached the barrow, or rather, the many steps that led to the barrow. 

A few bandits stood outside the doors, perhaps guarding the claw that was stolen. 

Fear began to form within the halfling, but she shook her head, climbing the steps. 

One of the bandits spotted her, using his bow to shoot an arrow in her direction. Nolwenn dodged it with superb agility, rolling away and leaping past the last few steps. 

She stabbed one of the men in the heart with one of her arrows, setting a few other men on fire. A woman with a bow shot at her arm, grazing it slightly, but Nolwenn held in her scream, impaling the woman with an ice spear. 

Lastly, there was the man who first attempted to pierce her skin with an arrow, his rotten-toothed smile causing the halfling to nearly vomit again. 

“Where do you think you’re going, elf? Why even try?” he cackled, charging towards her with a dagger. 

Sighing, she quickly drew back the bow, slipping in an arrow and impaling the man through his neck, disrupting his windpipe. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. Though, Nolwenn didn’t really care at this rate. Instead, she took his remaining arrows, adding them to her growing collection. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for damn coin,” she mumbled to herself, stepping into the barrow. 

Immediately, she could hear hushed voices talking amongst themselves. Scattered around where several dead rats, though they were rats the size of small dogs. Shivering at that, Nolwenn crept behind the body of a dead bandit, listening in on their conversation. 

“The dark elf wants to go on ahead. Let him--better than us risking our necks,” a man said. 

“But what if Arvel doesn’t come back? I want my share from that claw!” the woman whined. 

Nolwenn could nearly hear the man hiss in anger. “Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble!” 

The claw became more of a curious subject for Nolwenn. The siblings were very desperate to find this ornament--even allowing a stranger to retrieve it for them. And these bandits were raving on about it. What was so damn important about this claw? 

Ridding her mind of these thoughts, she quickly loaded her bow, taking out the man with one shot. The woman began to panic, drawing her axe and peeking around. “Who’s there?!” 

Nolwenn rolled her eyes at the stupidity that this woman had, taking her out with an arrow as well. 

She crept from her hiding spot, standing when she was sure that every enemy was dead, and she grabbed the arrows from the two bandits, noticing another chest. This one was locked, but she was able to quickly pick it and discovered more gold. 

Nolwenn wasn’t greedy by any means; however, she lost all of her funds during the ambush, and it was nice to know that she would be able to rent a room at an inn and dine with bread and wine...if she were to make it out alive, that is. 

Walking on, she started to hear the cries of some man. 

“Is...is someone coming? Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling? No...not again! Ah! Kill it! Get me out of here! Ah!” 

Rushing towards the sound of this voice, Nolwenn nearly pissed herself at the sight. In all honesty...she did piss herself...a little. 

A giant spider, hoarding a Dunmer with its silk. Never in her life had Nolwenn encountered such a monster. And to make matters worse, the spider had spotted her. 

She used her fire spell, setting the creature on fire. It was all she could do, and surprisingly, this creature wasn’t as strong as it seemed to be. After its skin charred, the body ceased to move. 

“You did it! You killed it! Now, cut me down before anything else shows up,” the Dunmer said, wiggling in his silky prison. 

Nolwenn knew who this mer was--the Dunmer--Arvel. He knew about the claw...he probably had it in his satchel. “Where’s the claw?” 

“Ah, yes! The golden claw! I know how it works! I know all about it--the Hall of Stories, the door, the markings--just cut me down, and I’ll show you the wonder of this claw!” he promised. 

She knew that he was lying. He was a bandit, after all. But she used a less dangerous fire spell to burn the silk away, freeing the mer. 

“You fool, you shouldn’t have--Ahrgh!” 

An arrow pierced his body, and Nolwenn reached into his satchel, finding a journal and the golden claw. She slipped both into her own satchel, carrying on down the path. 

Giant rats appeared, but after battling a giant spider, they weren’t as scary to her. They simply needed a good charring. 

However, as she continued on, Nolwenn received a rather scary surprise. 

Draugr. She heard about them in legends, but never did she think that she would ever see one. Her bow and arrows became her saving salvation as she was able to sneak in each chamber, killing them all before they had the change to truly wake from their eternal slumber. The luckiest part was that many of the draugr’s weapons consisted of vast amounts of arrow. 

Eventually, she entered a room with the oddest-looking door that she had ever seen. Rings of animal images surrounded a strange key-hole, one that seemed to match the very claw that Nolwenn had stashed away in her satchel. 

It all began to make sense. The claw was a key to open the final chamber, but what could possibly rest within this chamber? Just the thought alone caused a shiver to run through Nolwenn’s body. 

She inspected the claw, noticing that there were images of animals on the claw as well. 

“I wonder...” she whispered to herself, switching the rings to match the order of animals that were on the claw. 

Slipping the claw into the holes, she watched with amazement as the rings rotated to match one animal, the claw falling out of the holes as the door slid down, revealing a large and beautiful chamber. 

Walking down the pathway, she noticed a large coffin, a stone wall behind it with strange words carved into it. As she stepped closer, these words began to chant to her, calling her closer to these words. Light formed from these words, the chanting growing louder and louder until the aura of these words surrounded the halfling, and she knew immediately what this word was. 

“Fus...” she whispered to herself, feeling the power of this word tingle her entire body. 

Suddenly, the coffin popped open, an armored draugr wearing a horned crown rose from the coffin. He was holding a strange stone with ancient words carved into it. 

Her gray eyes widened at the sight. 

“Fus!” the corpse shouted, causing the young woman to stumble onto the ground. 

That word...was surely powerful, but it felt incomplete. She somehow knew that this word was not meant to be shouted alone, but she didn’t know why or how she even knew this. 

Quickly, she impaled the draugr with an ice spear, waiting for him to fall back into oblivion before approaching his corpse. The stone with ancient writings looked valuable, so she took it. A large chest caught her attention, and inside this chest, she discovered more coin and a better-quality bow, but nothing spectacular. Afterward, the halfling decided that enough was enough, and she ran down a tunnel close by.

Tears filled her eyes when she saw daylight on the other side, and Nolwenn ran towards it. 

It was over. No more bandits. No more draugr. No more scary spiders. She could return to Riverwood, grab the coin, and head out to Whiterun to start a new life. 

Soon, she will have a new life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how long this took to come out! No worries! I have two more coming tomorrow!...unless evil things happen. Also, I decided to try using chapter summaries. Should I keep using them, or are they too awkward? I bet they're awkward...I bet...


End file.
